To the End
by ackleswantsasnackles
Summary: When a demon burns his house down, Alec Lightwood is stunned, to say the least. Demons aren't supposed to exist. Abandoned by his foster family, he falls into the care of a certain Shadowhunter family at a certain Institute. There they teach him about his past and his duty as a Shadowhunter. But what's with the glittery warlock? Where does he come into the equation?


Disclaimer: I don't own TMI or any of its characters T-T, Cassandra Clare does

A/N: This is a Malec story because Malec is my OTP and if its yours to then you're my best friend! Alec POV (except for the prologue) and Magnus won't come in for a bit, but hang in there because once he does THE STORY WILL BE SO MUCH BETTER! Basically it's Malec and there's a demon (see below) out to get Magnus so it complicates things.

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><p><span>Prologue<span>

The soldier walked with purpose, his feet meeting the ground with a swift, mechanical precision. Those around him either snapped to attention, their hands thrust rigidly in the air and their eyes fixed straight ahead, or ducked their heads down demurely, focusing intently on the floor and murmuring the customary blessings and praises under their breath—so quietly that, if you couldn't see their lips moving, you wouldn't have noticed their words at all. However, the soldier's hearing was more than excellent, so he heard every whispered word. Everything about him exceeded excellence—it was what he had been engineered for, after all, thousands upon thousands of souls pooled together with near-futuristic magical technology and the most brilliant minds the dimensions could offer. He could hear the shuffling footsteps of the civilians three halls down, interspersed with the efficient, brisk clacks of other marching soldiers, and the twittering of the kraales as they peered down at passers-by with wide, unblinking eyes.

A few minutes of this precise walking passed, silent except for the clack of his boots against the ground, for after a sharp veer to the right he had passed the point beyond which civilians were prohibited; after this, he reached the end of the hallway, and as he neared the grand mahogany doors that marked his destination he took in a breath to clear his mind and suppress the gnawing sensation of a fluctuating, roiling black ball of unease inside his stomach.

Schooling his features into a blank face, one that he had perfected over the many years of loneliness, the soldier reached out with both hands and pushed open the doors.

The room was long rather than wide, though the ceiling arched up towards the promise of the midnight-black heavens that stretched on and on around it, devoid of even one hopeful little star. A long hall led to its occupant, who rested upon a throne crafted from the polished and smoothed bones of those whom he had considered worthy enough opponents. The bones of at least fifty unfortunate men made up this atrocity; their bravery and courage reduced to mere building materials that gleamed pitifully in the light of the thousand candles that littered the floors to the left and right of the path leading up to the dais.

The creature that sat, spine rigid and arms resting on the horrendous arms of the throne of death on which he perched so regally, cannot be described with words that pay true homage to his dreadfulness. His skin was a deep red, flecked with faded white scars that rippled across his skin in raised, ridged lumps. A true monster, he loomed over everything and anything around him; twice as tall as any normal man, and with ten times the strength, it was no wonder he was feared by so many. Not only was he fearsome in strength, but in wit; no one was smarter than he. No one had more wit, more ambition, more greed, more bloodlust, more heartlessness than this evil being.

"We have found him, my lord," the soldier braved, priding himself in how steady, how composed the words were; how easily they flowed off his tongue. Here, basking in the brilliance of his lord, any prior grievance was forgotten; all he could do was deliver his message while feasting his eyes upon his deity's face. Blinded as he was by a near-insane, unconditional love, he did not even notice the awfulness of the demon that he faced.

The frightful creature's black lips curled upwards into something that could not possibly be considered a smile; pointed and yellowed teeth gleamed in the meager light of the ritualistic candles as the soldier continued eagerly. "We have found Magnus Bane."

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><p>AN: Sooooooooo? What did you think? Did you like it? I hope you liked it. If you did, then yay! My goal is accomplished! If you hate it, you have to tell me why! Otherwise I won't get better!

To be completely honest, I had just read a bunch of old-timey Southern Gothic writing when I wrote this, the kind with long sentences and blocky paragraphs (my paragraphs aren't usually this long, don't worry) and long, near-indecipherable words. Because of that my writing style's kind of... different... but I like it! However, I think it's too melodramatic for the rest of the chapters (except maybe the darker ones). Also it takes a lot of energy to write, because it's not entirely ME. I think it fits this prologue, though, which is why I wrote it this way.

If you're confused about what just happened, basically I took a long-ass time to write about a soldier walking into a room to tell his superior that he's found Magnus.

On a side note, there will be swearing in this story. I swear in real life, I swear in my stories.

If you want to know the gist of what's going to happen, this is going to be a Malec-central story. If you don't know what that is, that's Magnus Bane (the guy warlock) and Alec Lightwood (the guy Shadowhunter). If you haven't noticed from the parentheses, they're both GUYS, so if you're not into that kind of thing I suggest you stop reading right now. However, I don't think this will have smut (unless you guys really want it), because it's not necessary for the plot and my dad would KILL me if he found me writing it.

However, the antagonist is going to be the guy on the throne the soldier met. He's a demon, and I haven't decided which one yet. He could be Azazel or Asmodeus or an OC... I don't really know, and he could kind of be anyone, as long as they're not main characters that I already have plans for (AKA the main characters from the books). You guys should review, if only to tell me who you want the demon to be.

I don't like to be the author who's thirsty for reviews, but seriously, they make my writing better. And help me advance the plot, as with the demon's name. Thanks!


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